


when i said "someone", i meant literally anyone but him

by horizsan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Inspired by a prompt, It's serious, M/M, New Year's Kiss, No Sexual Content, and i was like oh? okay that happened, and it was 2k, because that's the agenda i thrive on, but it's not written like crack fic, but then before i knew it i checked the word count, hongjoong is panicked, hongjoong!centric, i wanted it to be a drabble, if you find mistakes let me know por favor, it's almost 10am brain why are you dead, like the concept sounds like it would be crack fic, rest of ateez are meddling little shits, seonghwa is considerably less panicked, this could have more plot to it than it does but nah, this is like crack fic but taken seriously, this is unbetaed unedited and only slightly proofread, this should have been way shorter than it is, txt's yeonjun is a frat house leader, why can i not think of tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25765915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horizsan/pseuds/horizsan
Summary: Prompt:Hongjoong: hey, guys, guys, I dare you to give me someone to kiss at midni-Hongjoong: NO NO NO NOT HIM[ Prompt from https://prompts.neocities.org/ ]
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 6
Kudos: 125





	when i said "someone", i meant literally anyone but him

**Author's Note:**

> um, okay, yeah, hi! it's me again.
> 
> i'm not super happy with the way the end of this is worded, and i feel like it ends too abruptly, but i can't for the life of me figure out how to fix it without making this way longer than i ever wanted it to be, so i'm just gonna let go and say whatever.
> 
> this was meant to be so much shorter than it is. it was meant to be like 1k at most, but i got carried away, so it's twice that length :)
> 
> i am working on longer things, that i hope i will gain the motivation and inspiration to actually finish soon, but for now, i bring you plotless drabbles that are too long to be considered drabbles to hold you over until the main meal arrives.
> 
> my tumblr is @horisans, if anyone would like to get in contact with me for any reason, my DMs are open, and last i checked, they were functioning.
> 
> WARNINGS: i don't think there's any content in this that warrants a warning, besides mention of drinking alcohol, but if there is something else, let me know in the comments and i will gladly edit these notes!
> 
> without further ado, happy reading! <3

Hongjoong officially fucking hates Song Mingi. He’s made that decision now, and really, he thinks it’s justified, even if he should have seen Mingi’s little-bitch-ness coming from a mile away. He also hates Choi San. And Jung Wooyoung. And Kang Yeosang. Okay, maybe not Yeosang, he’s really more of an innocent bystander in this whole mess, but he is laughing his ass off with Jongho and Yunho (both of whom Hongjoong also hates) on the sidelines, so maybe an inkling of mild hatred is okay to be sent in his direction. Hongjoong hates himself too, for being stupid enough to get slightly drunk at a New Year’s party and walk right into this perfect trap. He also hates Seonghwa, for being said perfect trap (among many other reasons, such as being ridiculously perfect in literally every way for no reason and with no permission, and for having the audacity to blush when Mingi, San, and Wooyoung shoved him towards Hongjoong). So in other words, he hates everyone.

Especially Seonghwa. Seriously, who gave him the right to just exist like that, looking so unbelievably beautiful even with the aftermath of Wooyoung shoving him into a bush? His shirt got ripped open on one of the branches, but it tore in such a way that it just turned the shirt into a perfect V-neck, exposing smooth skin and the way it stretched and dipped perfectly over the lean muscles in Seonghwa’s chest and laid just right over his collarbone, that beautiful, perfectly shaped bone that was so unfairly attractive for no reason. His hair had gotten pretty messed up, too, and Hongjoong is pretty sure he can still see a couple of tiny stray twigs poking out from between the silver strands, but it’s that perfect kind of mussed that just looks attractive rather than messy. So unfair, seriously. And so, so unbelievably bad for Hongjoong’s heart (he thinks it might actually beat out of his chest sometime within the next few moments).

He regrets his drunk mouth. The second a certain amount of alcohol has made its way down Hongjoong’s throat, his brain-to-mouth filter falls away, and he doesn’t think he’s ever regretted any aftermath of that more than he regrets this one. He doesn’t regret it because of the action it will cause, no, that will be perfect, everything he’s ever wanted. But the aftermath of that action will be awkward, embarrassing, he’s sure. There’s a chance it won’t, but Hongjoong would rather not consider those odds. It’s a one in infinity chance, or so he believes.

His no-filter (stupid, stupid, stupid) mouth has gotten him into some serious trouble this time around. He never should have uttered the words he did anywhere near Mingi, San, or Wooyoung. Or really, any of his friends. He’s sure Yunho, Jongho, and maybe even angelic, can-do-no-wrong Yeosang would have jumped at the chance to close the door on Hongjoong’s only exit from the trap he’s walked his unsuspecting feet right into. But alcohol had taken away that precious filter, the filter that certainly would have been very useful in this situation, and he’d said the words. Those fateful words that got him into this hellish situation.

It had been five minutes before midnight, and Hongjoong’s stupid drunk mouth had laughed, taking a golden opportunity to be funny, and turned to his friends around him, and said, “Hey, guys, guys, I dare you to give me someone to kiss at midni-”

He’d cut himself off, feeling like someone had karate chopped him straight in the fucking throat, his stomach sinking into his toes when he realized that his friends had taken those words, and shoved Hongjoong further into the trap he’d already had one foot in. They’d all laughed, and Mingi and San worked together, each taking one of Seonghwa’s arms and shoving him forward, towards Hongjoong, Wooyoung standing behind to make sure Seonghwa had nowhere to go, no way to back away or bow out.

Hongjoong had immediately started an attempt to back away, only managing to take about three trembling steps backwards before the back of his head slammed against the rock-hard bones in Yunho’s chest. “No, no, no, not him,” he’d said, adamantly shaking his head like there was literally anything else in the world he’d rather do than kiss Seonghwa (which really, there wasn’t, but he couldn’t let Seonghwa catch onto that, that’d be mortifying). Seonghwa didn’t look all too thrilled at the prospect either, trying to tug his wrists out of San and Mingi’s iron grasps, to no avail. Hongjoong could tell he wasn’t using all the strength at his disposal (only because he didn’t want to make a scene, Hongjoong thinks). He’d like to think it was because Seonghwa didn’t actually want to remove himself from the situation, but those are delusions that Hongjoong would really rather not allow himself to drown in.

The wispy tendrils of anger painted across Seonghwa’s face as he tried once more to yank one arm from San’s grip had felt like another metaphorical karate chop to the throat. Hongjoong had used his voice for the first time since the utterance of, “No, no, no, not him,” and there had been a tinge of real anger underlying the waves of his voice as he’d said, “Guys, leave Seonghwa alone. If he doesn’t want to do this, I won’t let you force him.”

Seonghwa had drawn back at that, the barely-there-in-the-first-place sheen of anger falling from his face, his arms going limp in San and Mingi’s hands. He’d shaken his head, and met Hongjoong’s eyes with a glimmer of confusion in his dark irises. “I was only refusing because I thought you didn’t want to.” It was at this point that Jongho had cut in from the background somewhere behind Hongjoong, and muttered something about how he was really fucking confused, and Hongjoong, at the time, had thought,  _ Me fucking too, buddy _ .

He’d cocked his head to one side, still keeping his gaze locked with Seonghwa’s despite every nerve in his body screaming at him to tear it away, and asked, “So, you’re okay with this?”

Seonghwa had nodded, confusion intensifying in his eyes and creeping into the tone of his voice as he’d replied, “Yeah, I am. I thought  _ you _ weren’t.”

Hongjoong had pinched his thigh through a too-high hole in his jeans (jeans that belonged to Wooyoung that the younger boy had forced him to wear, Hongjoong only giving in because Wooyoung’s incessant whining about how hot he would supposedly look in them was fucking annoying. He had to admit, Wooyoung had been right, he  _ does _ look fucking hot in these jeans, but  _ Jesus _ , that boy could hold a note for a  _ long _ time) to keep an embarrassing blush from rising to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Well, I mean, I’m nervous as fuck, but I’m willing,” he’d said, to which Seonghwa had stepped forward, San and Mingi releasing their holds on his wrists, satisfied that he wasn’t going to try and escape the situation.

And this is the position they’re in now, standing just centimeters from one another, the toes of their boots just millimeters away from touching, and Hongjoong currently cannot breathe. He doesn’t have asthma (although he liked to tell gym teachers in high school that he did, just to get out of having to run a mile around a track that stained the bottoms of his sneakers red with a bunch of other sweaty teenage boys whose idea of fun was shoving scrawny kids’ heads into toilet bowls), but he thinks that if he did have asthma, this is what an asthma attack would feel like, his lungs trying over and over again to take in feeble breaths, and miserably failing at doing so. He can exhale fine, but of course, that’s not helping for shit.

Seonghwa smirks, barely, one corner of his lips quirking up like he knows the effect he’s having on Hongjoong, and  _ Jesus _ , that does not help either. His vision has long since tunneled, and all he can really see is Seonghwa, standing directly in front of him, although he’s sure all of their friends are still there standing around them in a circle, some of them probably still laughing their asses off. His hearing has sort of tunneled in a sense as well, and he can barely hear the countdown going on around them, even though considering they’re standing in the living room of the biggest frat house on campus, it should be deafening. Hongjoong thinks Seonghwa is jarringly similar to a bear right about now. He can smell Hongjoong’s fear, and he’s taking full advantage of it. Asshole.

He can only halfway hear the students around them (most of whom are just as drunk as he is, if not more) yell, “One! Happy New Year!”, and he doesn’t really care about the countdown except for the fact that as soon as the “r” in “year” has dropped from everyone’s lips, Seonghwa’s are on his, and God, all his pre-notioned expectations of what it would be fall away, because it’s so much better than he could have ever imagined. He can hear fireworks go off outside (seriously, Yeonjun? Fireworks? Jeez, that guy is so extra), but they’re nothing compared to the ones exploding in every organ in his body, from his stomach to his heart to his lungs, and they burn, but it’s a good kind of burning, and Hongjoong presses his metaphorical hand deeper into the metaphorical stove that it’s resting on.

He’s suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that his hands aren’t doing anything, his arms just hanging limply at his sides, and embarrassment spikes in his stomach again, thrumming through his bloodstream and sending red to the tips of his ears. He moves his hands up, wrapping his arms around Seonghwa’s neck and tentatively climbing his fingers upwards to tangle in Seonghwa’s hair (yup, there  _ are _ still twig bits in there), and when Seonghwa voices no protest, Hongjoong leaves them there, twisting the longer strands of grey towards the top of Seonghwa’s head around the tips of his slightly sweaty digits. Seonghwa pulls away for a moment, a lopsided smile forming on his lips that almost looks drunken, and if Hongjoong didn’t know Seonghwa was the designated driver (well, they all walked here, so the “person designated to make sure no one trips and breaks their neck on the way home”), he’d think Seonghwa had a bit too much tequila.

Hongjoong breathes out something along the lines of, “Happy New Year,” (at least he hopes that’s what he said, but he might have said something more like, “That was fucking amazing,”), and Seonghwa’s smile widens before he ducks his head back down to kiss Hongjoong again. He almost snaps his head back out of nothing but pure shock, having expected anything but that. Seonghwa pulls away, stepping back a bit, and Hongjoong feels someone’s hand grip his shoulder (he thinks it’s Jongho, no one else’s grip is quite that strong when it’s loose), and he raises a lazy hand to swat it away, moving forward to chase Seonghwa’s lips again. Seonghwa gently pushes him back, a chuckle bubbling from his lips like champagne personified in sound, and he whispers, “Later, I promise. For now, we’ve gotta get everyone else home before the campus police get here.”

For a second, Hongjoong is confused about why the fuck the campus police would show up, but then he remembers that Yeonjun had set off fireworks, which he definitely was not allowed to do, and remembers that, yes, they definitely should clear out and act like they were never at the frat house in the first place. Seonghwa’s hand stays wrapped firmly around Hongjoong’s wrist as he drags him (along with the others) out the front door, and once they’ve made it a safe distance down the sidewalk, they all burst into loud laughter.

Mingi and San lean in close to Hongjoong, sticking their tongues out almost close enough to brush against both of his cheeks, and whisper in his ears, “That was entertaining to watch.”

Hongjoong flings a hand back to try and smack San, but the boy is agile, dodging the half-assed swipe easily. Seonghwa turns his head back to look at the small scuffle going on behind him, and gently squeezes Hongjoong’s wrist. “They’re right, you know. Let them laugh,” he whispers, leaning towards Hongjoong’s ear, and Hongjoong barely holds back the full-body shudder that wants to crawl through his bones and muscles to the tips of his fingers and toes at the sensation of Seonghwa’s warm breath way too close to his face.

Okay, so maybe Hongjoong doesn’t hate everyone quite as much as he’d thought. Yeah, he’d embarrassed himself just a tad bit more than he’d intended to at the start of the night, but he’d gotten a couple of damn good kisses out of it, at least. And he’ll get more later, so...yeah, this isn’t so bad.

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! this isn't as good as i'd like it to have been, but i want it out of my head, so here we are. i hope you liked it, and if you did, or if you have thoughts you want to make me aware of, feel free to leave a comment! 
> 
> i hope you have had/are having/will have a good day/night, and i hope everyone is staying safe what with everything going on right now! make sure you're eating, staying hydrated, and getting enough sleep to function. wear a mask!!! and remember that i love you <3 mwah ~
> 
> \+ abby


End file.
